


In Which

by internal_melodies



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Marriage, Multi, Other, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-06 03:13:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1842196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/internal_melodies/pseuds/internal_melodies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Greg's ex-wife reveals that she is dying, and asks for one more favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally on fanfiction.net but I've decided to move it over here for the moment, since there are a lot more Mystrade fics on this site from what I've seen.  
> This is my first ever fanfiction, so any constructive criticism is welcome, encouraged and appreciated.  
> Not Brit-picked and not beta'd so if you know of anyone or are willing to do my own for tuppence I'd be so grateful.

It was a great day, but isn't that how it always starts?

Greg and Mycroft had the day off, and after the two had indulged in a much needed lie-in, Greg had made his way to the kitchen and was cooking up the French Toast that had given him a name through all the department at NSY. Mycroft was in the shower, and although it was already past noon neither of them had received a text or phone call, so no murders or national emergencies so far.

 

Right as this thought had passed through Greg's mind, his phone began to ring.

  
“Damn it.”

 

After glancing at the caller id and not recognizing the number, he took the pan off the stove before answering.

 

“Lestrade here.”

 

His heart dropped when he heard an all too familiar voice answer back.  


“Hi Greg.”

 

 

 

Mycroft wasn't the type to indulge, certainly he had expensive taste but the bespoke suits, expensive wines and vintage autos were all things he was accustomed too, thanks to both his privileged upbringing and _minor_ government position.  
Needless to say, when the rare occasion occurred that both he and Gregory had the day off – and **no** , he had _nothing_ to do with it this time, thank you very much- he indulged. A full nights sleep; after hours of lovemaking, a few extra lazy hours in bed, before a hot shower and breakfast out on the terrace. Indeed, this was shaping out to be a perfect day.

 

So it was with a smile and perhaps a bit of a hum that Mycroft made his way towards the kitchen, the smell of cinnamon, citrus and bacon had filled his flat and made it feel, homey and sickingly domestic. Surprisingly, Mycroft didn't mind in the slightest. Even if no one else could believe it, Gregory was able to turn 'The Iceman's' flat into a home.

He began to fix himself a cup of tea, sighing over the fact that his husband insisted on drinking coffee in the morning, at least he had successfully replaced that vile brew with a more acceptable brand.

 

He felt more than hear Gregory's return to the kitchen, resisting the impulse to deduce, he took a sip of his tea before speaking.

 

“What's wrong?”

 

 

 

“Hi Greg.”

 

Thanks to the harshness of his job, Greg wasn't rendered speechless very often, actually, he could count on one hand how many times he's been at a loss for words in the past year, and half of them had something to do with Mycroft. Regardless, hearing his ex-wife's voice on the phone, almost two years after the divorce, left him at a complete loss.   


“Greg, are you still there?”

 

“Oh, uh, yeah. I'm here. How- How are you Sid?”

 

“Not too good, I'm afraid. Greg, I'm just going to come straight to the point. I know I have no right to ask this of you, but, I just- I wanted to see you. I want to apologize, for everything, in person. I know you're with that government guy-”

 

“Mycroft.”

 

“Yeah, him, but I need to do this.”

 

 

Greg knew that sigh, it would happen whenever Sidney had something more to say. Turning off the stove completely he made his way into the living room. “Sidney, what's wrong?”

 

It was like he could hear the tears when she answered. “Greg, I'm dying. I have cancer.”

 

 

As hard as he tried, Mycroft couldn't ignore his husband's red eyes or tear stained cheeks.

 

“Gregory? What ever is the matter?”

 

Placing his cell phone atop the counter, Greg slumped onto their barstool.

 

“It was Sidney. She has cancer.”

 

“Oh my.”

 

As his eyes shifted up from the tabletop to his spouse, Greg frowned.

 

“Myc, don't be like that.”

 

“Like what, my dear?”

 

Gesturing towards the coffee pot, Greg sighed.

 

“That tone, that thing you do.”

 

the pair was silent as Mycroft poured a cup, as he placed the mug down Greg grasped the younger mans wrist and gently pulled him to stand between his legs. Looping his arms around Mycroft's waist, Greg pressed his face against the impeccably tailored waistcoat, the material rough against his face, yet soft at the same time; just like Mycroft.

 

The couple stood in silence before Greg let out a deep sigh.

“She wants to know if I can visit. She says there are some things she needs to tell me, in person, and some things she needs to apologize for.”

 

Greg let out a whine of comfort as Mycroft's fingers began threading through his hair and massaging his scalp.   
  
“And how do you feel about that?”

 

Pulling away, Greg looked up at his young husband.

 

“The question is, how do **you** feel about it? You'd be coming with me.”

 

“Gregory, I hardly think-”

 

“Sidney specifically asked for you to come.”

 

Anyone else would have missed the look of both shock and surprise on Mycroft's face, but Greg didn't.

 

“Did she now?”

 

Greg nodded slowly, before bringing his arms to the front of Mycroft's waistcoat and began toying with the buttons. A habit the younger man found to be absolutely charming.

 

“She said she'd understand if you didn't come, but you will, won't you?”   
Hopeful, warm brown puppy eyes gazed up at him.  
“I wouldn't go without you.”

 

Mycroft mentally sighed, no, he didn't want to go visit his husband's ex-wife so she could ease her conscious. She deserved the guilt, she had hurt Gregory, _his_ Gregory, and forgiveness from him would not come easy, if it came to her at all. However, he did not want to come across a spiteful, or jealous man, he knew Gregory was nothing but faithful; it was that woman he had concerns about. She could easily take advantage of his darling's kindness and forgiveness, but he would not allow it.

He looked down at his husband, whose beautiful face was now downcast as his hands gripped the tops of his worn out flannel pyjama pants and mentally sighed.

 

Was there nothing he wouldn't do for this man? He was clearly mad, taken complete leave of his senses the moment he said 'I do.' There was no hope for him, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

Taking his partner's hand, Mycroft brushed his lips against the rough knuckles.

 

“When do we leave?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which; We meet the Ex-Wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are the chapters too short? I know the average is about 3K words per chapter from what I've been told.   
> I don't mind making longer chapters, if that's what everyone's more comfortable with, I just feel like they're ranting, but if these are too short just let me know!

Greg hated hospitals, granted he practically spent a quarter of his time at St. Bart's so you'd think he would have gotten used to it. Maybe it was because this was totally different, he wouldn't find Sherlock, John, or Molly on the other side of this door. No, behind this door, was someone Greg had spent years of his life with. Years before the divorce, Greg had realized his marriage hadn't been founded on love. Sure, they cared about each other, and the sex was good, but it wasn't love. 

Taking a glance at the silent man standing beside him, Greg realized that what was different between Mycroft and Sidney, wasn't that he was a man, or that she was a blonde. It was that he loved Mycroft, and Mycroft loved him. Greg knew it was hard for Mycroft to be there, and while he was extremely grateful his husband had come, a part of him wondered if he should have made him stay home. 

“You ok love?”

“I am quite at ease Gregory, the question is, are you?” 

Greg smiled, if Mycroft was any more tense, World War 3 would begin in the waiting room of a hospital in some small town in Maine that Greg couldn't remember the name of. Grasping the young mans hand, he whispered, “Thanks for something with me.”

The feel of Mycroft relaxing was comforting, almost comforting enough to ignore the queasy feeling building up in his stomach, almost. Taking one last deep breath, Greg opened the door, but the eyes that met his were not the big brown eyes of his ex-wife, but a pair of hazel eyes, on a face he'd never seen, yet he felt like he remembered. The hazel eyes belonged to a young woman, she was probably a teenager. She had been curled up in an arm chair, but at the sight of the two men she shot up.

“Who are you?”

Quickly double checking the paper where he had jotted down Sidney's information, making sure he was in the right room, Greg smiled kindly before answering. 

“I'm Greg Lestrade, and this is my husband, Mycroft. I'm looking for Sidney Morgan? I'm her-”

“I know who you are.”

If it wasn't that the man behind him had had years of practice, Greg would have thought this girl had the coldest ice voice he had ever heard. 

“All good things, I hope.” He joked, trying to figure out just who she was, and why she-

“Well, there you are. Early as always.”

Turning towards the door which must be to the bathroom, Greg both smiled and let out a sob.

“Sid...”

She looked awful. Her hair had been thick and healthy, not it was scraggly and thin. Her big blue eyes had all but swallowed her face, the cheeks that used to be round and rosy were gone. 

“Not the hot rod I used to be, huh?”

'Hazel eyes' scoffed as she watched Sidney give first Greg, and then Mycroft a hug. Greg couldn't help but grin at the shock on his husband's face. 

“Mum please, you look fine.”

The room froze.

“Mum? You have a daughter? Sidney, she;s got to be at least 14-”

“I'm 16!” She interrupted indignantly, “And 'she' has a name!”

“Abigail! That's enough!” Sidney snapped, sighing as she sank into her hospital bed. “I think it;s better if you waited outside while I talked with these gentlemen.:

“But Mom, I-”

“That's an order, Abigail!”

Throwing the couple a glare, Abigail sighed. “Fine.”   
Grabbing a bookbag off of the floor she stomped out, the slam of the door behind her left the room all too silent.  
It took Greg a few minutes to speak again. 

“Sid, why is that 14-”

“16.” Mycroft piped up, completely ignoring the glare Sidney was giving him.

“Right, well, why is that 16 year old calling you mum? Do you have anything you want to tell me?”

Greg hadn't even realized he was holding his breathe, until he felt himself let it out when Mycroft laid a hand on his arm. Sidney sighed, pulling her feet up onto her bed, she gestured to the plush armchairs beside her. 

“Would you like to have a seat? This may take a while.”

As the pair sat down, Sidney stared off with large, owlish eyes. It wasn't until Mycroft cleared his throat that she seemed to jolt from her thoughts. Smiling sadly, Sidney clutched a pillow closer to her, occasionally tugging at the seams.

“It wasn't supposed to be like this.” She began. “That's why I wanted you here later, after she had went on to her tutors. We were supposed to work, you and I. We were supposed to-”

“Sidney.” Greg warned watching Mycroft out of his peripheral vision. The slight bounce to the young man's knee was more then enough of a warning for a blow-up sometime soon. 

“Right, sorry.” Sighing, Sidney gazed at the two men. Her eyes full of regret. “But I was never happy. I aws never satisfied, and instead of being thankful for having a man like you, I kept looking. I kept searching, thinking that it was you who were the problem and that maybe, eventually I could find someone who could make me happy.” 

“Are you serious?!” 

Greg jumped at the fury in Mycroft's voice. The ever present mask of calm and indifference had fallen away, showing everything from anger, to hatred, to pity. 

“That is he stupidest thing I have ever heard in my life, how could you be such an imbecile?!”

Grabbing the redhead's hand, Greg tried to soothe the man before he jumped out of his chair. 

“I am an imbecile.” Sidney quietly agreed. “I am.” She insisted, after Mycroft's eyebrow quirked up.   
“I took the best thing that could have happened to me, my one stroke of luck and threw it away; and I'm sorry Greg. I'm so sorry.” 

The floor. That's what had Greg's attention, the intricate tile floor of this hospital. Not the emotions swirling inside of him, not the stinging in the back of his eyes or the heaviness of his chest.   
He was over the divorce, had been over it before it was even official. He had come to terms with Sidney's cheating and knew there was nothing he could have done to stop it. He knew he wasn't the problem, but to hear her say it. To hear her apologize, after all these years. She had never apologized to him before, actually she had made it a point to not apologize when she brought him the divorce papers. 

“It's better this way, that way I don't have to keep lying to them, telling them I'm single.” 

Hearing her talk about it, reminded him of just how much it hurt to be cheated on. How much it hurt to be lied to, and how utterly low it had brought him. Damn it, now he was crying and there was no way to hide it. Quietly taking the handkerchief Mycroft had extended to him, Greg wiped his eyes, ashamed of his emotional display. 

“I'm sorry.” He whispered to Mycroft, twisting the cloth in his hands. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for my live, absolutely nothing.” Mycroft soothed, cutting Sidney a glare at the same time. 

“He's right Greg, you never did anything wrong, it was all me.”

“However, and forgive me for interrupting, but I believe the topic in question was concerning the young woman sitting impatiently outside of your room door.” 

Sidney's glare of annoyance did not affect Mycroft at all, and he simply raised an eyebrow waiting for her to continue. Hesitantly, Greg looked up from his lap. “Sidney, is there something I should know?” 

Gazing at Greg, Sidney began to hate herself. Seriously, honestly, downright hate herself. She had done a lot of bad things in her life, thins she's suffered for and things she's still suffering from, but she hated what she was about to do to Greg. If there was any other way, she would do it, but she can't. Unable to look Greg in the eye, she gazed out of her window. 

“Do you remember when you proposed to me?”

The question caught Greg off guard, but after a minute he nodded.   
“Sure, we had just gotten dinner at that-”

“No. Not then, the first time you proposed to me.... I was so wild. While most of my friends were starting to settle down, I didn't. I couldn't. I couldn't bear the thought of becoming anyone's wife, at least that's what I told myself. So when you asked me, I panicked. Went off to America, lived with my family then found a roommate, Penny. Do you remember her? She was my maid of honor.”

Sidney smiled, her eyes hazy with a far away look. “She was gorgeous, the best friend I could have ever had, too good.”

Mycroft's calculated voice broke through the silence. “Penny is deceased.”

Either Sdney knew what to expect from Mycroft, given he was Sherlock's brother; or she simply assumed he was being rude on purpose. Regardless, Sidney ignored the tone and nodded. 

“Died last fall, car accident.”

“Oh Sid, I'm sorry.” Shifting forward, Greg placed his rough, warm hand atop her thin, fragile one. 

“She's the reason you're here. She made me promise. She was on her death bed and what does she do? Doesn't get mad at me, doesn't guilt me for making her keep my secrets, no. She makes me promise to come clean.”

By this time, Mycroft could no longer ignore the nervousness that had possessed his husband. Any longer and their meager morning meal would be displayed upon the hospital's tile floor. Attempting his utmost not to come off as 'rude' he persisted. “And what would that be?”

“She's not your daughter Greg. I cheated on you while I was in America, and I had a daughter, almost 17 years ago.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello you've reached the end of Chapter 2! Thanks so much for all of the postive responses!   
> Thanks to ShipsIntoDarkness, Roosickle & VariouslyVaried for your comments, you made me all so happy!  
> Thank you to everyone who gave kudos! I literally smiled everytime I got the notification!  
> I'm really excited to finally be getting the fic out, and I love that people are reading it!   
> You're all encouraging me to focus on perfecting my writing and making this fic the best it can be!  
> I plan to update every Tuesday, but since today is Monday and I had some free time I decided to do it now.   
> I at least want to update 1x a week. What did you think of this chapter? of Sidney? Mycroft & Greg? I'd love to hear what you have to say! See you again soon!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which: We Learn A Few Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY this is SO LATE. I can't even begin to apologize (I'm on the ground groveling at your feet for a start). Just, life happened and then sucky life, and now school, so I am just a wreck. But now actually I have time to work on it, at school no less…. That'll be fun getting caught writing…. EEK. 
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy and I plan on updating this really soon, hopefully sometimes next week if I can get the creativity flowing. I love you all to the moon and back.

In retrospect, Mycroft realized he never would have seen it coming.  
He was fully prepared to have a mess on his hands, and then, he was thrown a completely different one. Gregory’s demeanor had barely changed, and yet you could see that the man was crushed. The rest of the meeting went by extremely quick, and within a few minutes they were both out of Sidney’s room. 

As soon as they walked out, they were ambushed with a slew of questions from the child.

“What happened? Is my mum alright? What did you do to her? What did she say?” 

If it weren't for his experience with Sherlock, Mycroft would have run the risk of being overwhelmed with the onslaught of questions. Placing a comforting arm around his husband's waist, Mycroft turned towards the young woman.

“Your mother is fine, more fine then she deserves at the moment. Now if you would excuse us Ms. Morgan-”

“Myc, don't be mad at her. She didn't do anything wrong. None of this is her fault.”

Even through his heartache, Mycroft's husband was still a moral man. Taking a deep breath, Gregory sat down. Mycroft quickly took the seat beside him, and placed a comforting hand on his partner’s knee. Abigail quickly took the opposite chair, spewing out apologies.     
“I'm sorry, about all of this. I know it must be hard for you, meeting the girl who would have been your daughter, the kid you could have had. I don't know which one sounds less-”

Her frantic rant was cut short when Greg smiled and gently placed his hands atop hers. 

“Hey, listen. It's okay. Like I said, nothing here is your fault, and I'm sorry about all this. It's just-- well, like you said, it's a bit difficult. I've always wanted kids, and up until about 2 minutes ago I thought your mom had never been able to-”

“She had her tubes tied after I was born, said she couldn't risk any more variables.” 

Just when thought the knife couldn't have cut any deeper, it did. 

Eyes widening, Abigail covered her face with her hands.  
“Oh shit! I shouldn't have said that, should I?”

“If I were to borrow a phrase from my dear younger brother, that would classify as – 'a bit not good'.” 

Sighing, Greg glared at Mycroft. “Now is not a good time Mycroft.”

Huffing indignantly, Mycroft glared at Abigail. Regardless of what Gregory said, this whole scenario was indeed because of her, ergo, her fault. The silence continued for a few minutes, the buzz of the hospital provided a strangely calming and comforting effect upon the group. 

“I should go check on her.” Abigail explained as she started to stand.  
“Yeah, okay.” Greg stood uncertainly. He shook her hand and tried not to stare as she walked away. She looked so familiar, like a face from a dream. He was sure if he thought on it long enough he could figure out where he saw her face before.

Mycroft grasped his arm and gently tugged him in the direction of the elevator.  
“Come along my dear.”

 

The pair was silent all the way back to the hotel, when they arrived Mycroft promptly began making a pot of tea for the both of them. Greg quietly watched Mycroft as he bustled about the kitchen in their suite. Try as he might, his husband could never keep up his usual mask around Greg, and Greg liked it that way. He liked seeing this raw, sensitive, sentimental version of Mycroft; but something was wrong. 

“What's wrong?”

Seeing Mycroft's shoulders freeze up was a dead giveaway that there was indeed something wrong, now Greg only had to figure out what. 

“Why would you think there is something the matter?”

And as always, Mycroft was so very helpful and straightforward when it comes to dealing with his emotions. 

“You're mad at me.” Greg explained simply. “You never make me tea unless I'm sick or I specifically ask you. You only make me drink tea when you're angry with me.”

Opening his mouth to argue, Mycroft promptly shut it when he realized how it was true.  “Sometimes, I think I should have married an idiot. It would have been so much easier.”

Chuckling, Greg wrapped his arms around Mycroft, nestling his chin against the other man's shoulder he smiled. “Well you didn't, you got me, and while I'm no genius, and contrary to what your brother thinks, I both see and observe.”

Mycroft hummed as he finished preparing the tea. Giving Greg a cup and sitting down, he stared into his cup before frowning. “There's just something I don't understand.”

Greg's eyes widened, before he let out a laugh.  
“How do those words feel on your tongue?”

“Vile.... And Bitter.”

Petting his husband's knee Greg chuckled, “There now love, you'll live. I promise I won't tell Sherlock.” Sitting back in his chair, taking a sip of his own tea, Greg gazed thoughtfully at his partner.  “What is it you don't understand?”

“Why did you cry? Why were you so upset? I was, what I mean to say is.”    
Inhaling sharply, Mycroft sat up straighter before starting from the beginning.  
“I was worried about you.” 

If Greg knew anything about Mycroft, and he did mind you - like the beautiful dusting of freckles that graced his back and arms, or the way he'd moan whenever Greg pulled and sucked on his earlobe, or the way he would turn his plate so that all of the food would be at a 45 degree angle – Greg knew when Mycroft was avoiding feelings, sentiment. Watching quietly as Mycroft fidgeted quietly, he thought about what Mycroft was asking, about what he wasn't asking.

“I don't need kids. Sure, I'd love to have some of my own, but we don't need to have any if you don't want to.”

Aha, so that was it.  
Mycroft's entire frame had stiffened, quickly confirming what Greg had thought. Walking across the room and plopping himself into Mycroft's lap, he waited. Mycroft slowly began running his hand up and down his leg.  

“I do not wish to deny you of anything. Especially things you've wanted and dreamed off all of your life.”

Cradling the sharp, angular face of is husband, Greg felt like crying.    
“You're all of dreamed of, how could I be sad with you? You're all I need.” 

Pressing their lips together Greg tried to convey all of the words he couldn't say into this kiss. All of the love he had for the man underneath him, about how much he trusted him, and most importantly, how Mycroft was his new dream. Growing up he was taught that he should want a wife, a house with a picket fence and the traditional 2.5 children.  
As he got older, he realized his bisexuality, and it took a while for him to come to terms with the fact that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't end up with that cookie cutter life, and while it was hard at time, Mycroft made it all worth it. 

Because even if they never had kids, and only had their cat Vladimir, that was enough.  
Greg loved his life with Mycroft, he loved it despite the late nights and the early mornings, he loved it despite the long trips and the sudden emergencies, he loved it despite the government functions and the police dinners, he loved it because any time spent with Mycroft was time well spent. 

He loved having someone so in love with him, that they would clear out their own schedule to take him to a football game, for a team Mycroft didn’t even like. He loved having someone he could cook for, someone that enjoyed his cooking and would rather stay home then go out at a restaurant. Greg loved catching Mycroft watching him; the love in his eyes was enough to make Greg melt. He held on tightly to the younger man, trying hard to make him feel all the love he had for him. Even if it took a lifetime to show Mycroft, Greg was determined to show just how important he was. 

The next morning Greg awoke to a text from Sidney, asking him and Mycroft to come visit again. 

“I know you probably don't want to hear any more from me, but please come.” 

Groaning, Greg turned back over into bed, curling his arm around Mycroft he snuggled against the man's warm back. Breathing in his familiar scent he relaxed, right as he felt himself drifting off, Mycroft rolled over. Running his hand through Greg's hair he smiled softly, “What did she say?”  
Rolling onto his back, Greg sighed, “She wants to see us again.”  
“Mhmm.”  
“You don't seem surprised?”  
“Hardly. It was obvious she had more to say.”  
“You mean that she was hiding something else from me?”  
Sighing, Mycroft shifted closer, “I hadn't wanted to say it quite like that.”  
The pair remained silent, snuggling close to each other, after another 20 minutes, Mycroft spoke up.  
“So when are we going?”


End file.
